


Big Mistakes and Cornshakes

by Chromosomefarm



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: M/M, Micro, Multi, Oral Vore, Peril, Soft Vore, Vore, eaten with food, m/m vore, micro/macro, mild violence, no digestion, nonfatal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23881024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromosomefarm/pseuds/Chromosomefarm
Summary: During an afternoon spent as Star's shrunken plaything, Marco finds out exactly why he was warned about approaching Tom while adorable and bite-sized. Contains soft, nonfatal vore with some graphic peril and a violent rescue.
Relationships: Marco Diaz/Tom Lucitor, Star Butterfly/Marco Diaz/Tom Lucitor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 99





	Big Mistakes and Cornshakes

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my rare fast-fics that came about within a couple days, which is always fun. Hence, however, it's not particularly serious or well-thought out; mostly just some yummy fluff (or, uh, what a creeper like me would call fluff LOL) I've wanted to get out for a while but never had the mojo. There's no particular place in the Star timeline this really takes place, and it doesn't necessarily exist in the same universe as any of my other fanfics/works. Just something I wrote for fun! I hope you enjoy it too. 
> 
> Keep in mind that this is a vore story that may contain some events and descriptions that may strike some people as graphic/disturbing/disgusting. It is a nonfatal story with a happy(?) ending, but please take care of yourself and find something else if this kind of thing doesn't appeal to you!

**BIG MISTAKES AND CORNSHAKES** **  
  
**

**A Vore Story By Crownflame/Chromosomefarm/Cheesefritters**

“Tooooom?”

  
Marco leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Everything was so far away when you were _tiny._ Or, well, everything was a _lot_ in general, really.  
  
It had been a lovely time at first, really. Star had shrunk him down to toy-size, and he certainly hadn’t minded being her plaything in the slightest, even though she could be sort of rough. They’d fallen asleep together, him tucked into her pocket, but he’d narrowly escaped being crushed as she’d turned in her dreams, and after what seemed like an hour of wading out from the ocean of her silky, tangled hair, he had to admit that this “being small” thing was getting a bit old for him, at least for now.  
  
Waking Star had been no good. He’d tried. His tiny hands were ineffectual and his little voice must’ve been easy to ignore, since all she’d done was almost roll on top of him _again._  
  
Star had told him not to let Tom, who was visiting, see him like this, but Marco wasn’t sure why. Tom also had some magic, and he might be able to help out… or at least be willing to carry him around a while. Marco didn’t think he was particularly out of shape, but man, his body felt like jelly just from trying to make it down the stairs. He could hear the TV on, at least, and some shuffling in the kitchen, so at least SOMEONE was down here and awake.  
  
He pushed himself up off the wall and forced himself to keep going.  
  
Tom was in the kitchen.  
  
Marco couldn’t quite see the counter, but from the smell of hand-roasted corn and the sound of the blender, he assumed Tom was making his favorite Mewman oddity, a cornshake. Marco sighed. Tom never cleaned up after himself, and he always left little ash circles on the ceiling from roasting the corn with his own fire instead of in the oven like a civil person.  
  
“Tom, you’d better not be making a mess in my kitchen!” he scolded between blender pulses.  
  
Tom stiffened, his pointed ears flicking slightly to listen. He looked back over his shoulder. “I can’t help it! I’m _hungry.”_ Seeing no one, he blinked, confused. “Marco??”  
  
“Down here,” Marco sighed.  
  
Tom looked down. Marco found himself in the crosshairs of those three red eyes, and Tom blinked again, baffled. “Oh, whoa! You’re uh… _tiny.”_

Marco rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, that’s kind of the problem.”  
  
Tom hesitated, then crouched to Marco’s level, cocking his head curiously. “Star?” 

“Yeah, Star.” Marco shook his head dismissively. “I was hoping you could… um… Tom?” 

Marco shivered. Tom’s pupils had shrunk to thin, interested, sort of _predatory_ slits, and something about that made Marco swallow hard and step back.  
  
“What, dude?” Tom asked. He leaned in closer, his tail out and swishing like a cat mid-hunt, and absently, he licked his lips. 

Marco made a face. "Uhhh…. What are you doing?” 

Tom blinked. "Sorry, man. I'm just so _hungry_ \- I mean you're so _tiny_ , and… well, you know.”  
  
Marco stiffened. “I-I don’t think I know.”

Tom smiled plaintively, his teeth looking very, very sharp. “Well, you look sort of… um… _tasty_ like that.”  
  


Marco kind of wanted to laugh, since it sounded sort of ridiculous, but his body was so tense he couldn’t get more than a squeak to leave his throat.  
  
Tom’s ears pricked forward at this, and he looked for all the world like an interested cat. He licked his lips, then outstretched one of his clawed hands. “Can I… hold you for a second?”  
  
Marco stumbled backward. “N-no thanks.”  
  
He had to jump away as Tom suddenly _pounced_ at him, sliding across the tile and burying his horns in the wall, which bought Marco a couple seconds to dive under the kitchen island and squeeze himself as far underneath as possible.  
  
Tom tugged his head free, leaving little gouges in the wall, and laughed, flicking plaster off of one of his horns. “C’mon dude, I just want to hang out!”  
  
“No way!” called Marco. “You’re acting super weird!” He immediately kicked himself for saying anything, because Tom’s ears perked up, and his three predatory pupils shot immediately to the crack Marco had stuffed himself into.

“Am I?” The demon boy crawled forward in an easy four-legged gait that Marco had never seen him use before, and then laid himself sideways to peer underneath the island, tail swishing playfully. “I’m sorry! I just… when I see something tiny and cute, I just want to _eat it.”_ _  
__  
_ “... _EAT_ IT?? You want to… EAT me??” Marco choked. “Like… eat-EAT?”

Tom shrugged, grinning helplessly. “‘Fraid so.”

“But-” Marco stammered, his breaths coming heavy and hard in his fatigue and mounting fear. “But it’s _me,”_ he insisted, pinning himself down low among the dust bunnies, hoping Tom couldn’t see him. 

  
“But right now, you’re _small_ and sorta _squirmy_ , and that’s like, my favorite,” Tom pointed out, trying to shove a hand underneath to grab Marco. He frowned a little- it would only fit in flat, so Marco could move faster than he could.  
  
Marco was tiring fast, but he was quickly becoming sure that letting Tom get hold of him was not exactly ideal. “I-I thought _cornshakes_ were your favorite!”  
  
Tom made another grab at him, managing to hook at his hoodie with a claw. “Cornshakes don’t have that _fight_ to them though. You have plenty of _fight,_ right, Marco?” He licked his lips. “I bet you’ll kick all the way down... ”

Marco was dragged a terrifying few feet-inches before he was able to shed his hoodie and leave it behind in Tom’s grasp. “You-you can’t just _eat_ me,” Marco panted. “I-I mean, we’re _friends.”_ _  
__  
_ Tom frowned at the tiny empty garment in his hand, then set it aside. “It’s not that _bad,_ Marco.” He stuck his tongue out between his teeth and reached underneath again. “You’re being…. ugh… _silly._ ”  
  
“Silly?!” Marco howled, pushing at Tom’s claws as they nicked at him, trying to find purchase.  
  
“Yeah!” Tom snorted. “Can’t you help a guy out?”  
  
Marco slid himself backward, trying to get out of reach. “I can- _make-_ you food!!”  
  
“That’s right!” Tom grunted, trying to slide his arm farther underneath, but it wouldn’t fit any deeper. “You’ll _make_ the perfect snack!”  
  
“That’s _not_ what I-” Marco protested, then shrieked as he felt something _behind_ him.  
  
He’d neglected to worry about Tom’s _tail_ , which was long and lithe and fit quite easily underneath the island, and readily scooped him along into Tom’s greedy claws with its devilish spade-tip.  
  
“No, no, no, no!” Marco fought and kicked and even bit as Tom dragged him out, but those huge fingers were far too strong. Once Tom got him free, he wrapped his hand around Marco in a tight fist that threatened to break his bones, and curled back happily onto his haunches with his prize in tow.  
  
Tom licked his lips. “There, see? I’m glad you’re starting to see things my way!”  
  
Marco sneezed as he squirmed against Tom’s grip. “I-I’m literally _covered_ in dust, dude. That’s _gross_.” He sneezed again miserably. “Well, _more_ gross.”  
  
“Hmmm…” Tom frowned. “You’re right…” He grabbed Marco by the ankle and let him swing upside-down, then gave him a couple good shakes. It was so thoughtless and casual of Tom, but it felt _horrible,_ jarring Marco’s bones and making him dizzy.  
  


“Toooooom!” he whined helplessly, kicking at the fingers that gripped him to no avail. He didn’t know what he’d do if Tom dropped him anyway- the fall was far enough to be scary in and of itself, but maybe it’d be better to break his neck than let Tom tease him to death like a playful cat. 

  
Those big red eyes peered him over curiously. “Hmmmmm….” Tom plucked a couple of dust bunnies and stray hairs off of Marco delicately with the tips of his claws, each big and sharp enough to disembowel him. Then he inhaled, and started trying to _blow_ him off.  
  
Marco tried to curl up to avoid it, which was hard when you were hanging upside-down by a leg, and especially when you were being shaken up and blown around. Tom’s breath was sort of sulfuric and sickly-sweet with a spine-tingling undertone of inorganic dust and decay, and it made Marco gag, especially since he was being sprayed with droplets of smelly saliva.  
  
“There,” Tom gave him a satisfied shake, making him cry out in discomfort. “I’d rinse you off,” he confessed, “But that would wash off all the _flavor.”_ _  
__  
_ “I don’t _have_ a _flavor!_ ” Marco howled.  
  
He wished he hadn’t. Tom’s tongue, which was a good seven or eight inches long, rolled out of his mouth and wrapped its way up around his body in a strong, oppressive lick that made Marco gag helplessly. It slithered there too-long, then withdrew back into Tom’s mouth, leaving Marco a tired, weak, shivering mess, his hair and body smeared with thick saliva.  
  
Tom smacked happily for a bit, practically purring. “Mmm, you definitely do, dude.” He gave Marco another, shorter lick, and then another, and another, careful to reach for new dry spots to explore, making Marco blush. The muscles of his tongue were strong and oppressive, squeezing Marco’s breath out of him, such that Marco wasn’t sure what he’d die of first; embarrassment or being crushed as that tongue muscled itself into his armpits and under his shirt, along his bottom and between his legs. It was… a lot. He found himself choking back tears as he struggled to breathe, Tom happily squeezing his sore muscles in whorls of invasive tongue. The demon boy hummed, pleased.

Finally the big tongue withdrew again. Marco was sopping wet and shivering cold, his achy body stinging as he trembled and gasped for breath. He wiped off his face, trying not to sob as he dangled there. Maybe this was all Tom’s terrible idea of a joke, and it’d be over with now, and he’d get turned back to normal and get a nice hot shower, and…  
  


Tom’s three huge eyes squinted happily. “Mmm. You’re _delicious_ \- did you know that? Been holding out on me, dude.” He _tsked_ , the tip of his tongue clicking against his ridiculously carnivorous-looking teeth. 

Marco had never thought about it- he’d never been small enough to- but Tom really was built like an apex predator, and clearly wired like one too. Was that why Star had told him not to let Tom see him like this? Maybe Tom couldn’t _help_ but see such a tiny bite-sized thing as food. He- he’d had no idea. He should’ve listened, he should’ve….

  
It was too late.  
  
Tom chewed his lip and considered him thoughtfully. “So, Marco, head-first or feet-first?”  
  
Marco was so tired and overwhelmed he barely had it in him to respond. “ _What??”_  
  
“You wanna go head-first, or feet-feet first?” Tom licked his lips and laughed. “It doesn’t matter to me either way.”  
  
Marco’s insides went ice cold. Oh no.  
  
“H-how about neither?” he managed weakly.  
  
Tom snorted lightly and shook his head. “Nah, see, that doesn’t work for me.” He plucked Marco around the chest and lifted him upright. “You know what? How about… feet-first, then?”  
  
Marco blinked, dazed by being held upright again, and realized Tom was gently popping his shoes off with the tips of his claws.  
  
Tom smiled. “Shoes just aren’t that tasty, you know?”  
  
Marco pinched himself, but unfortunately this was not all a bizarre dream, no matter how weird things had gotten, no matter how fuzzy his head felt. He sucked in a hard breath and shuddered, trying to curl up and withdraw his socked feet.  
  
Tom gave him a shake. “Hey! Be cool!”  
  
“N-no way!” Marco managed, even though Tom’s fingers were squeezing almost too-hard around his chest. “I’m not just going to _let_ you _EAT_ me!”  
  
Tom chuckled, delighted. “Perfect! I like a snack with a kick, you know?” 

Marco felt sick. Why was this _the same Tom_? This wouldn’t be so horrible if he wasn’t so, well, _himself_.  
  
Tom brought him up close to his face, his breath spilling down over Marco in thick, oddly cool undead waves. “You ready?” he grinned, winking one of his three huge scary eyes.  
  
Marco kicked him in the nose.  
  
Or tried. His socked foot was so tiny and his muscles so weak that he only biffed the cartilage some, making Tom snort with laughter.  
  
In a way, Marco was glad it didn’t hurt Tom. That meant he didn’t need to worry about holding back.  
  
Tom pulled him out of reach, and then lowered him towards his mouth again, this time opening _wide_. The sight of those sharky teeth aimed right at him, and his dark, yawning purple throat made Marco’s insides falter.  
  
“Why don’t you just _kill me??”_ he yelped. He didn’t _want_ Tom to, of course, but it seemed so much easier, more merciful than going through the trouble of keeping him unbroken, forcing him to live to meet a wet, churning fate deep down _there._  
  
Tom drew back, almost offended at the suggestion. “Marco, we’re _bros,_ bro.” He licked his lips. “And where’s the _fun_ in that??” He opened his mouth up again.  
  
“This isn’t _fun!_ ” screamed Marco, trying to curl away. Tom caught him by the ankle, holding it precariously between his rows of terrible teeth, and Marco hastily kicked at his upper lip to try to pull himself free even as Tom shoved him forward. He managed to liberate his ankle too-suddenly, and all at once his rear slid onto Tom’s tongue, folding him in half with his feet in the air. “No, no, no, NO!!” Marco howled as Tom released his chest, and he slid deep into the demon’s mouth, steeling his legs to try to halt his progress.  
  
He found himself lodged in Tom’s mouth, shuddering at the poolwater-cool tongue cupping his back and rear, bent at the hips with his legs and feet straight up towards Tom’s lips. It was dizzyingly surreal, and smelly, and the teeth were _so big_ all around him, and- Tom had the _audacity_ to attempt to _swallow_ him like this, shutting his mouth tight around him and giving him a heavy _squeeze_ that made his joints pop and threatened to snap him in half.  
  
But something- maybe just the position, or, as Marco liked to think, the way he’d steeled his legs, made him stick and go no further. Marco was glad of that. The thought of sliding down Tom’s throat _rear-_ first seemed particularly uncomfortable- although he guessed it didn’t matter how he ended up inside the demon boy’s belly in the end.  
  
Marco swallowed hard. He didn’t _want_ to end up in anyone’s belly at all. But…  
  
Tom grumbled in disapproval all around him, and Marco felt a now-familiar pinch around his ankle as he was drawn back out of Tom’s jaws, shaking, sopping-wet and pathetic-looking.  
  
Marco squinted back plaintively as he hung upside-down, wiping his face with his arm. “Can we take a break?” he pleaded. “Please??”  
  
Tom frowned. “Marco, you’ll have plenty of time for that in my _stomach_.” He swung Marco closer to his lips. “Now, do you wanna try going down head-first, or what?”  
  
“No…” Marco whimpered, but he knew it wasn’t going to make a difference. He stuck out his arms in protest as Tom gleefully lowered him into his toothy jaws.  
  
Marco quickly realized that head-first was going to be particularly disadvantageous to him- even though he managed to stymie his progress by grabbling at Tom’s lips, he knew his legs would’ve been stronger, and from this angle all of his limbs would ultimately fold tight against his body to make him an easy-to-swallow little lump. No wonder it was the favored position of snakes and storks everywhere.  
  
Tom gently twisted him, forcing him to release his grip on those jaws or pop his shoulders out of joint, and then let him drop back into his mouth. Marco stuck out his elbows in useless little chicken wings as he slid down Tom’s tongue backwards, kicking wildly with his feet.  
  
He thought a moment, then hooked his knees over the edge of Tom’s mouth before he got too far down.  
  
Tom grunted and teased at his thighs with his tongue, but Marco didn’t budge, trying to see if he could curl and climb his way back up. It would’ve taken abs he didn’t have, but maybe adrenaline would....

Tom closed his mouth, leaving Marco in total darkness.  
  
Tom was cold. It was weird that he was cold. Marco supposed it was because he was undead, and his fire was perfectly voluntary, but it still seemed weird. The least he could’ve done when he was _eating a guy_ would’ve been to _warm up_ a little… He didn’t think he should be _shivering_ on his way to someone’s _stomach._ _  
__  
_ Tom’s tongue sloshed, basting him in thick smelly saliva. That and the texture of Tom’s oppressive, invasive tongue made Marco’s stomach seriously turn, and he gagged hard, again, again. He wondered if it would bother Tom if he threw up. Would it ruin his taste, or just make him more delicious? 

Swallowing hard, Marco felt around outside with his feet, planted them, and tried to PUUULLL. It was awkward, but…  
  
Tom effortlessly _slurped_ his legs inside, as if he were nothing more than a big noodle.  
  
Marco kicked viciously at the roof of Tom’s mouth, or tried- but there just wasn’t any _space._ Most of it was filled up with Tom’s long tongue, and every once in a while he’d hit a large tooth, but everything was sloshy with saliva so it was hard to breathe.  
  
It didn’t help that Tom was rolling him around and around, presumably savoring his flavors, or maybe getting him extra wet to gulp him down.  
  
Marco shuddered, fighting as hard as he could against the strong mouth around him. He couldn’t do much. He was tiny, and weak, and his muscles had already been jelly just from making it down the stairs of his house.  
  
He thought he’d done okay, all things considered- it just… hadn’t been enough.  
  
Tom tipped his head back- Marco imagined like some feral beast- and swallowed him down, whole, alive.  
  
There was a harsh _squeeeeze_ and then all structure slid away over his shoulders and past his feet, leaving Marco upside down, half-sliding, half-shoved down a narrow, formless tunnel. His arms were pinned against his body or he’d try to lodge himself- he kicked with his legs but it did no good.  
  
Then everything came to a stop.  
  
Sort of.  
  
Marco’s thrashing suddenly didn’t hit solid walls anymore, and he fumbled out into an open _space_ , as deeply cool and profoundly dark as a cave, but soft and formless like a water bed and not nearly as wide. It _stank_ , of junk food and barf and death, and Marco shivered as he found himself chest-deep in what felt like foamy lukewarm pool water- it reminded him of a bath, and he hated baths, because they reminded him of sharks. He swallowed hard. There was something worse than sharks in here.  
  
This was… this was Tom’s _stomach!_  
  
“Mmmm!” Tom hummed happily around him, his inner walls twinging. “You really hit the spot, Marco! How do you like it? Is it cozy?”  
  
Marco tried to punch at the walls, but everything was so slippery and shifting and sloshy and soft he could barely tell up from down. “Let me out…” he wheezed, weakly. “Tom, you- you _have_ to let me out. Please, dude…”  
  
Everything squeezed in a little, rhythmically, and Marco guessed that meant Tom was rubbing his belly from outside. “Aw, you just got here,” pouted Tom. His voice was so loud and shook everything inside him, making his belly-water slosh and vibrate. “Stay a while, why don’t you?”  
  
Like Marco had a choice. Tom didn’t even seem to be able to _feel_ him kicking, or at least wasn’t saying anything about it, not that Marco could get a good kick lined up anyway in the softness and the dark, so reluctantly, he just... gave up. He just… didn’t have the strength for it anymore, not if it was useless. His body was sore, every muscle aching from the exertion and terror he’d been through, and he had to admit the cool walls sort of felt _nice_ as he lay there limply panting, wanting for all the world to sob and to sleep. He was so tired…

  
But there was something about the gurgle of the guts deeper inside Tom that kept Marco’s heart thrumming too hard. Or no… The sounds were rhythmic, hypnotic, but… Tom _didn’t have a heartbeat_ … or at least nothing Marco recognized as one.  
  
“What’s with your heart?” Marco asked, impulsively. “I-I can’t hear it.”  
  
Everything around him shifted weird. Maybe Tom was standing up. His lungs shuddered oddly, and he replied curtly, “It’s _broken_. I don’t need it anyway.”  
  
“Broken?” Marco asked. “Like… _romantically_?”  
  
“Look, dude, I don’t wanna talk about it.” There were faint sounds and motions like he was doing something outside. “That’s _private.”_

“Should’ve thought of that before you _ate me,”_ Marco pointed out. 

There was a weird sucking sound, almost like a straw against the bottom of a glass…  
  
Marco shrieked as something VERY cold and chunky began to flood in around him. Was- was that-?  
  
“Chill out, Marco.” Tom said, between eager draws. “It’s just my cornshake.”  
  
“ _Cornshake?”_ Marco cried, helplessly. He did remember Tom had been making one… it seemed like it had been so long ago. But… “I thought _I_ was your snack.”  
  
A fresh gush of shake poured in around him. Marco wondered if he was, out of all things, going to _freeze_ to death in here. Tom smacked happily. “I can have _two_ snacks, Marco.” There were a series of thuds- maybe he was walking? “I was almost done making it anyway, and there’s plenty of room in there, right? You’re not _that_ filling.”  
  
Technically, there was. Marco was sure he’d drown though, if the rest of it filled. 

He wasn’t even tasty enoughto be Tom’s only snack...  
  
Everything sloshed and upended, and Marco figured Tom had flopped back onto the couch, or at least found _somewhere_ to recline and cuddle his full tummy. There was the ominous sound, the seizing of lungs, as Tom took another draw of shake… 

  
Immediately Marco knew he never wanted to try cornshake again- well, if he lived to have the chance, of course. Having it swallowed in on top of him, half-melted and spit-thickened was absolutely disgusting, especially as the milk began to curdle and the corn-pulp began to pile and foam around him, all with an oppressively cloying, sickly-sweet roasted-corn smell that would haunt him in his dreams, somehow worse than the stomach-smell alone. Tom’s stomach wouldn’t stop sloshing joyfully, mixing him and everything together, so it was in his clothes, in his _socks,_ bits of huge corn kernels clinging to his face and hair and _mouth,_ and he gagged and gagged again until he finally couldn’t handle it anymore and threw up pitifully, unable to escape being rolled in his own warm mess.  
  
He was _food._ That’s all he was, _food._ Food to be mixed with other food and digested as Tom kicked back and relaxed…  
  
“That tickles,” chuckled Tom. “What are you _doing_??”  
  
“ _S-shivering,_ ” Marco managed, surprised how high the tears were in his throat. “It-t-t’s s-so co-cold in h-here…You’re…” he swallowed hard. “Y-you’re _freezing-g me.”_ _  
__  
_ “Oh,” Tom said, but not until he’d taken another huge slurp of shake. Marco couldn’t feel his hands or feet anymore. He wondered if his hoodie would’ve made it better or worse. 

“Here.”  
  
Everything began to warm up. The ice in the shake began to melt more quickly, and even the pooled corn-ooze started to become lukewarm again, then warm, then- to Tom’s credit- an alarmingly tolerable _hot._  
  
“Um. Thanks,” Marco managed, though he wasn’t sure it mattered. Maybe being digested would’ve been more painless if he’d frozen to death first, but… This did _feel_ a lot better. Even the new gulps of cornshake joining him were warmed a bit from sliding down Tom’s throat, stripping away some of the bitter shock. “I just… I wish you wouldn’t _eat_ on top of me.”  
  
“If you were _bigger…”_ Tom pointed out. Marco could faintly hear the straw picking around at the glass. “Just hang on. ‘M almost done…”  
  


Marco lay limply, panting, at the bottom of Tom’s hot gut and let the last gush- which was particularly chunky- tumble over him, pieces of ice and kernels of corn burying him. He didn’t move to shake them off. 

He spat pitifully and nuzzled his face into the wall. Now that his sore muscles were _warm_ , he felt _tired_ , and he honestly didn’t care anymore if he drowned in this disgusting sloshing pit. There was nothing he could do about it, was there? Nothing to do but lay here and melt.  
  
Tom seemed to settle around him, his big lungs moving slower and slower…  
  
“Tom?” Marco peeped.  
  
Tom was asleep. He even started snoring, a low nasal rumble all around.  
  
Marco sighed, and tried to snuggle in himself, lying submerged to his neck on a beach of tingling, pulsing flesh. That was that, then, he guessed. He was so tired… maybe he’d sleep too, and he wouldn’t even feel Tom turning his body to squishy cornshake mush…  
  
There was a loud and violent _THUD_.  
  
It sent Marco reeling, and Tom woke up too, his insides squeezing in so hard Marco had trouble finding air to breathe. It seemed from the shudders of Tom’s lungs that he wasn’t so lucky either. What on _earth…?_ _  
__  
_ “Heyyyy Star…” Tom wheezed.  
  
_Star?_ _  
__  
_ Marco would’ve shouted but he was being smooshed so hard he couldn’t manage more than a tiny squeak.  
  
“Ohhh... Marco?” Tom managed weakly. “Well, I…” There was a resounding _gulp._ “Well, _yeah…_ I-I kind of, sort of maybe… _ate him._ ” If Marco listened carefully he could hear something shrill, and he pawed his way up eagerly to see if he could make anything out. “I couldn’t _help it!”_ Tom whined. “You know how I get, I just can’t… But! But…” Tom was fumbling, “I know exactly where he _is,_ so…Ow, Star!!”  
  
Something smacked against Marco, dizzying him, and it took him a moment of blinking to realize that it hadn’t been _physical._ There was… there was _light in here_ now, dazzlingly bright, exposing the ugly wrinkled purple walls of Tom’s tummy and the curdled cornshake coating every surface… including Star’s giant hand, which was flattened into a ferocious spade shape.  
  
Marco choked. He knew Tom was weird and undead and this probably wouldn’t hurt him much, but Star had _cleaved him open_ \- and with her other hand she ripped him wider, exposing his grey, scarred ribs, so that she could peer inside.  
  
Marco was so shocked by the light and the cold fresh air and the preposterous situation, all he could do was outstretch his hands weakly, pleading for rescue.  
  


Star gasped. “Oh noooo!” She muscled her hand further inside and, without hesitation, scooped Marco up out of Tom’s stomach-muck and cuddled him to her chest, even as he dribbled curdled corn-cream onto her. “Oh no, no, no! My poor sweet li’l baby Marco!!” She lifted him and kiss-nibbled at his hair.  
  
Marco was starting to wonder how she could stand it when she paused, spat over his head, and wiped her mouth on her arm. “Ewwww.”  
  
“Sorry,” Marco sniffled pitifully, cuddling against her thumb to stay warm. “‘M all… blegh.”  
  
She sighed and sat back, to a groan of protest from Tom, who was squashed underneath her and trying to make his insides stitch themselves back together again. He didn’t look too bad for having been disemboweled, really. Marco was glad he didn’t really bleed, not only because he didn’t think his stomach could take much more disgusting today, but also because it hadn’t stained his couch.  
  
“Marco,” Star scolded, picking bits of corn kernel out of his hair. “I told you not to go around Tom like this. He really can’t help it, you know.”  
  
“He _ate_ me!” Marco protested. “I wasn’t expecting him to _EAT_ me.” He looked down at Tom, who was frowning and rubbing at his newly-healed belly. “I-I could’ve _died!_ ” He stiffened in realization, his head going woozy. “Oh gosh… I could’ve died.”  
  
“Oh yeeeeah…” Tom smiled weakly. “Sorry about that. You’re just so _squeaky_ and _mmm!_ ”  
  
Marco glared, clinging to Star’s thumb for support. “ _Really?_ ”  
  
Tom shrugged apologetically.  
  
Star bopped him on the nose with a rolled-up TV magazine. “No! Bad! No hunting cute things!”  
  
“Owww… _OKAY!_ Geez…” Tom moaned, rubbing his nose. “Sorry, dude. I-I wasn’t _thinking_.”  
  
“It’s okay,” muttered Marco, pulling corn fibers out from under his shirt. “I’ll try not to push it next time.”  
  
“Now,” Star said, shoving Tom as she leaped off of him. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”  
  
As she carried him back up the stairs, a stray thought hit Marco. “Star… I’m not gonna have any dry clothes if you leave me tiny.”  
  
“Nope,” she agreed.  
  
“So… are you gonna change me back?” he asked. He could really use a break anyway, after all this. Some time alone… some clean, dry clothes, a good, long, _safe_ nap…  
  
“Noooope!” Star sang. 

  
  


**FIN**


End file.
